100 Prompts
by OpheliusRex
Summary: I took the challenge of 100 prompts and I'm in the process of writing over 100 words on each one. Mostly shameless fluff/angst, 10/Rose and other. Rated for safety.
1. Introduction One Last Time

One last time. All he wanted was one last time to hold her close to him, to feel her single heart beat against him, to see that smile with the tip of her tongue peeking out from between her teeth. And he could never have it, not now. Now that he'd left her with himself, but a different him. A him that was confused and dark and terrible. The last thing he'd seen of her was the back of her head- she was in his arms, burned in his memory that way. The only thing he could really see her as, remember her as, was that girl in _his _arms, but not really his. The way he would remember her was a sacrifice, and the pain was terrible.

One last time. All she wanted was one last time to see the other Doctor, the brown-suited Doctor. One last time to see whatever star she chose. One last time in the TARDIS, picking out the most appropriate wear for wherever and whenever they had landed. She had the Doctor, but she needed _him. _Her next thought was simply that the pronouns were going to kill her.

I'm not scared, he told himself, face to face with his own death. I'm not scared. I'm alright. And as he staggered back into the TARDIS, he croaked three final words- "I'm always alright." Then the burning, the flame, the regeneration- being was irrelevant, and he stumbled back to hit the wall with a gasp. His hands went directly to his hair. Hair. At least he still had hair. Once he reached the mirror he could see that his hair was still fairly unruly, though considerably more ginger-tinted. But the only thing he could see, looking into that mirror, was that he was gone. Rose's Doctor, the Doctor he had been, was gone forever.

Years and years later, Rose was dying.

One last time, she took his hand.

One last time, she saw that familiar face bending over her.

One last time she imagined the twilight as no other human could ever imagine it.

One last time, she smiled.

And on the other side of the Void, the Doctor heard her voice whisper through the TARDIS, one last time.


	2. Time's Up

He always felt like he had no time to do anything. Constantly feeling rushed, breathless out-of-date. That's what usually happens when you find yourself protector of a planet, a universe. You get stressed. And it's not a good stress. That feeling only intensified when he met Rose, and the moment he saw her what he really saw was how quickly she was running out of time. And the only thing he had time to do was take her hand and urge her to run. And after that, all he could see was how fleeting her life would be, even if, for a human, she lived long- all he could see was a time she wouldn't be there to steady him. She had managed to turn a monster into a man, and for that he would always love her.

Eventually he settled into a pattern, teaching her as she taught him, and he worried less and less about losing her, about running out of time. At least until the Beast prophesied that she would die in battle, and though he told himself and even her lies, he had a feeling they both knew the truth. Rose, he felt sure, could feel it in her bones. And he didn't have time to get used to it before it happened, no time.

He had no time to grab her hand and keep her close when they opened the void, no time to warn her not to pull the lever, no time to save her. He only had enough time to see it happening and to feel his hearts breaking as she was torn away from him, screaming her name, reaching out. He had enough time to place his hand against the wall, his cheek, and imagine her on the other side, waiting for him to get her out.

But there was no time. He had no time to save Rose, and he never forgave himself for that. He made time to say goodbye by killing someone's world, someone's universe, someone's sun and stars and sky. It seemed fitting that the only way for him to say goodbye was to make more trouble for him. He had two minutes to tell her how brilliant and beautiful and perfect she was, and how much he loved her, and how sorry and angry he was that he couldn't be with her.

But there was no time. Two minutes was too little time. He was a coward; two minutes wasn't long enough to muster up the courage, staring into her eyes, feeling pathetic and small and insignificant compared to her. The worst was that he could not hold her while she cried, and knowing that she cried that way because of him. It was his fault, after all, that he'd let them get so close. It would've been easier, he speculated, if he and she hadn't let themselves believe that this time would never come. He could see that she wanted, needed him to say it before he left forever.

But there was no time. She said it, gasped it out, tears streaming down her face, though he knew she was trying to be brave. It scared him to know that the thought of losing him was so terrible to her- "_I love you,_" and she managed to muster a sort of smile. He swallowed, feeling his hearts jump to his throat and his palms start to sweat, even though they were on opposite sides of the Void. The best he could think of, the best he could force his choked-up mouth and brain to even consider replying, was a throaty, "Quite right," which he immediately hated and knew sounded pompous. "And, I suppose," he paused then, forcing himself to curl at least one corner of her mouth, be strong for Rose- "Here's my last chance to say it…" He saw her pupils dilate in anticipation, but with a sinking feeling he realized he had very little time. "Rose Tyler," and then her image faded. It was a moment before he realized she couldn't see or hear him anymore, and he opened his mouth to finish his sentence before he realized and closed his eyes in anguish.

There was no time. He let the tears run down his cheeks, but then he had to move on. That was the way he worked, the way he had promised Rose he would move on. He would never forget her, and he would always speak of her.

i"_There's a girl- a brilliant girl, miles and years and ages away, separated by a Void so deep you can't even feel your heart beating there- and she has saved the world so many times that nobody can count. She has turned monsters into men, stopped a world war, fixed the future, taken out a werewolf, tilted on the axis of an impossible planet and sailed through a black hole. There is a girl so fantastic that there are planets and moons and stars named after her, and beings millions of light-years away sing songs of her. There is a girl so dangerous that an institute was created to keep her away from her own country. There is a girl so beautiful, so pure, that she managed to capture a Time-lord's heart and turn it from stone to something that could love again. There is a girl that I would have shown everything, all that the world is and it's ours for a moment and then gone- but there was no time. Running out of time isn't about not having any time. Running out of time is about having all the time in the world and letting it get away. Running out of time is using the time you have the wrong way. Running out of time is never telling someone how much you love them until it's too late. And now my time- our time- is up."/i_


	3. Stars

Stars. The nearest one is still millions of miles away, and yet we can see them from here on this tiny planet. She has always wondered how that can be- she decides that they must be so bright, so huge, that they can be seen forever. Infinitely shining, like a beacon at sea that never fails to show the way. She is ten years old and she sits up on the roof of the Powell Estate, arms wrapped around her knees, wishing that she could be on one of those stars instead of here.

Stars. Even now, she believes in them. She has learned that they are composed of gas, and that they burn out and so will the sun, one day. One day when she is dead and gone and her bones have become dust. She knows they are not as magical as they look, but deep down she still believes that there is more to them. She has to believe there's a better place than Earth, a place where things might be easier. A place where bullies don't exist to chase you home from the shops, where your mum doesn't sleep all day and work all night, a place where your boyfriend is more than a useless lump you're not even really sure you love. She is fifteen and she sits on a bench, clutching her grocery bags to her, wishing she could be on one of those stars instead of here.

Stars. Even now that her entire life is a mess and she doesn't feel like waking up, they are there. Beacons of light. Leading her. Sometimes she feels as if they're just in her reach, close enough to touch. Other times she almost believes that they are all just clouds of gas, meaningless and cold. She ends up still hoping that there is a star where she has a place. Where she doesn't have to have a dead-end job, gabbing friends, and that same sweet but useless boyfriend who by now she's fairly sure she doesn't love. Sometimes, she wonders if it is love. She wonders if love is just a faint happy feeling in the pit of your stomach. She wonders if love is runny eggs on her birthday and a terribly-wrapped present and kisses that don't make her feel any different at all. The idea makes her want to cry. She is nineteen and she stands amid a throng of moving people, wishing she could be on one of those stars instead of here.

Stars. She can see them in his eyes, those electric blue eyes with a sparkle deep within. They are truly in her reach now; all she has to do is take his hand. He scares her a little bit but more than that she trusts him and her curiosity drives her to explore with him. He takes her to a place where the waves are frozen in time, the planet suspended in motion, and he slips his hand in hers. She is Rose Tyler, and she has finally found her star.


	4. Creations

As he stares into her bathroom mirror, wiping the fog away from the glass, a single thought runs circles in his head:

_do clones start in a tube or a bottle, or do they start somewhere better?_

He is Rose's Doctor, standing with a towel wrapped around his waist, and he knows the question isn't really rational.

But he has to know.

He has to wonder whether whoever, if there is actually someone, who's designing the universe meant for him to exist, or whether it was just an accident and the bloody brilliant other him had thought of a use for him. He has to wonder because he needs to know for sure that he's a being worth caring about, worth spending time on.

He spends fifteen minutes staring at the face in that mirror until he's not even sure he exists. The words of his doppelganger echo in his mind.

i_he needs you. That's very me._/i

But which of them is him? And then who's the other one, if not himself? The whole thing is completely insane and leads his brain back to the same place-

Who i_is_/i he, anyway?

Is he the man that Rose loves, or…

or a reflection?

And then, as if in answer, he hears his own voice (or the other him's voice, or maybe he's just crazy) assure him,

"i_You were created to be the one being in both our universes who could love Rose back. So do it right, or I'll have to go over there and kick your sorry one-hearted arse into the Void._/i"

When he focuses again on the mirror, he sees himself as simply himself.

The Doctor.

He's finally broken free from the other him.

He's created himself, and now he knows his answer.

Clones aren't created in tubes or bottles b**or**/b somewhere better- clones are created by themselves.

"Doctor," he hears her voice, muffled by the door, "I need't wash my hair, too, y'know!"

And he smiles.


	5. Can You Hear Me?

She's gone, and something inside him knows it's for good this time. With the other him there to keep her grounded, he's alone again.

Still, he moves on. And even moving on he moves backwards, looks over his shoulder. When you can live forever you tend to dwell on the past, he thinks as he sets the coordinates.

He's not sad anymore, not angry or guilty or scared.

He's numb. He knows it will fade, but the hole in his heart that loving her has left will always be there. And there are so many holes now that he's sure another would make his hearts break all at once. He hopes that his next regeneration will bring a bit of peace for himself but knows that's not likely to happen, so he sinks down into the soft apple-grass and stares up into the sky of New Earth, pretending to an extent that she's sprawled beside him.

And for a moment, she is. He can hear her exhale and smell that achingly farmiliar smell that's unmistakeably Rose, and he knows that their hands are close but not touching.

"_forever_," she whispers, and he swallows hard.

"There was never a forever long enough for us," he whispers back, his voice hoarse with buried emotions, "and I'm sorry."

There's no reply and his heartbeats quicken because he knows even before he looks that she won't be there.

He'd dreamed of this, he thinks. Not quite dreaming since he wasn't asleep, but he'd looked forward and seen a time when she would be gone. But he won't believe it- he'll play along for a few more seconds, praying for her to say something and knowing she can't and she won't, because she's so far away now and he's left her again.

"I'm sorry, Rose," he murmurs, closing his eyes.

"Can you hear me?"


	6. Love

Love, he thought, is a fickle thing.

The moment that he thought this wasn't a particularly stressful or meaningful moment in the least. He was fiddling with the settings on his sonic screwdriver, sitting in the captain's seat, which he had never previously known could, in fact, hold two people. Rose was asleep (for her, it was that time- probably two or three in the morning), having dozed off watching over his shoulder as he explained why exactly his sonic device worked.

She'd begun to look drowsy, almost as if she could barely keep her head up, so he'd carefully and casually shifted to make it easier (and obvious) for her to rest her head on his shoulder. That was one of the things that he'd noticed so recently- how she was the perfect height. Short enough not to have to bend herself over to rest her head beside his neck, tall enough for him to be able to look into her eyes without really having to look down. The other thing that he'd noticed was how effortlessly their hands seem to find each other, and how perfectly her body fit with his when he had the privilege to hold her.

Had the Doctor been in love before? Definitely. As much as he hated to admit it, the entirety of his prescience in the Time War stemmed from that. From so desperately wanting to prove himself to a time-lady. He knew what love was, had felt it for many if not all of his companions. He'd loved Sarah Jane, and Susan, too. He'd loved Captain Jack in his own way, like an annoying younger brother. He'd have taken a bullet for any one of them, and in some cases, he _had_.

But the way he felt towards Rose was something entirely different. When she looked at him, a large amount of his blood seemed to rush downward. His brain often stopped functioning entirely normally when they had a moment to just… speak. The way she made him feel was something he wasn't really sure he was ready to feel quite yet, not for anybody. And the worst part was how much she trusted him, how much she had come to love the life he lived. He knew time was running out before he'd do something stupid, and she needed to be set free- all humans did eventually. None of them can live forever and it's not fair, he thought, to make them live their lives with him, even if that's what they think they want.

Because he knows from experience that none of them have ever anticipated how long 'forever' really is. After a few years, if they're really devoted, they start getting tired. Dull. Easily annoyed. They stop loving life like they did, and then, even if he returns them home, they'll never take nearly as much joy in what they do, because he's ruined it by showing that even with the whole entire universe at your fingertips, all of time and space- it still gets old, gets tiring. And nobody can love him enough to be able to face that reality. Nobody can ever love him enough to be able to understand that it's quite possible that mortality is a blessing and not a flaw.

If anybody could fit that bill, it would be Rose. And with every aching part of his two hearts, he wanted her to stay with him.

But more of him knew that keeping her near would break her spirit, and the only thing worse than having Rose by his side would be killing that sparkle in her eyes that kept him daydreaming forever instead of working on the TARDIS, like he should have been doing.

He cupped her head with one arm as he slid out of the chair, then scooped her into his arms, smiling at how easily her head nested into his chest, and hating himself for letting even that simple gesture flood him with so much emotion.

As he had done countless times before, he walked as smoothly as he could down the hallways of the TARDIS, following the faint green lights that led to Rose's bedroom.

He laid her carefully on the downy-feather mattress, pulled the comforter up to her chin, and stood for a few moments, just watching her. Watching until she shifted, rolled onto her right side (as she always did), and stretched out one arm, leaving her hand open slightly, as if awaiting something.

It was the same way she always slept, he knew.

All the same, he didn't turn away and return to the control console. This time, he reached out and touched his fingers lightly with hers.

Then, finally, he turned and closed the door behind him- even though he wanted to stay.

Love, he knew, is a fickle thing. Love changes and grows and waxes and wanes like a moon. And love can make anyone- even the Doctor- do stupid, pointless things- like sit outside her door for the next four hours until she awoke.


End file.
